An Intriguing Lesson
by Mrs. Snape4768
Summary: Snape x Hermione. Upcoming smut.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione couldn't wait for Snape's potion's class. He had to be the most brilliant man she had ever met. He survived the War, as Hermione had saved him. She can recall it. . .

Hearing the loud "thud" of Snape hitting the floor, and Nagini retreating, she waited for Voldemort to leave. She heard him retreat, as he had other matters to attend to. She assumed Lucius had distracted him for the time being. She rushed over to Snape's crumpled form, and Harry collected his tears, before Snape lost consciousness. Hermione looked at his wound, swollen and yellow; Nagini's venom obviously beginning to take effect. She panicked. "No, no, no," she told herself. He can't be dead. She knelt so that her face was lingering around his neck. Then, she began to suck the venom out of his neck. She sucked and spat vigorously until the yellow was no longer apparent, and she could no longer feel the biting taste of venom upon her tongue. She barked at Harry to get a Blood- Replenishing Potion, a Grand Pepper- Up Potion, a Poison Antidote, and Madame Pomfrey.

Hermione took her seat in Snape's classroom, as always at the Gryffindor table. She watched everyone file in and take their seats. Snape swept into the classroom, punctual, as usual.

"Today, class, we will be learning how to make the Draught of Peace," Snape drawled, "Can anyone tell me the uses of the Draught of Peace?" Hermione's hand shot up. "Anyone? Anyone?" Snape scanned the room, looking for anyone but the bushy- haired, know-it-all, Gryffindor.

"Anyone besides Miss Granger?"

No response.

Snape eyed her.

"Very well then. Miss Granger, please inform us. I'm sure you have read _all_ about it," he remarked.

A few stifled chuckles from the Slytherins.

"Well, sir," she began, "The Draught of Peace is a draught made from powdered unicorn- horn, syrup of hellebore, powdered porcupine quills, and moonstone. Typically, Draught of Peace is used to relieve anxiety and agitation. It is important not to overdose the ingredients, otherwise the consumer may fall into a deep sleep. It emits a slight silver vapor, and-"

"Enough Miss Granger," Snape sneered, "while you may not, some of us need to breathe oxygen. Now, class, I will write the ingredients on the board, and you should recall the instructions, as they were in last night's reading," his sneer became even more apparent as the groans of derelict students reached his ears. He flicked his wand at the board, muttering an incantation, and the ingredients appeared in Snape's elongated scrawl. He then spun around, striding towards the desk, his robes billowing behind him. He lowered himself into the seat at his desk and began to grade papers. His mind drifted to the war and how he survived Nagini's venomous bite.

He remembered the thrashing of the snake, and Voldemort exiting the building. Then he could remember some figure- a woman- it had to have been an angel- descending upon him. He couldn't make out any details, as his vision had clouded. The woman had cried out something- something he couldn't quite make out- and her face lingered around his neck, her breath tickling just below his ear. Then, the luscious, plump lips descended upon his neck, sucking his neck with every fibre of their being. A feeling of deepest relief overcame him and he shuttered, wether from relief, or the poison's affects, he knew not. The next thing he remembered, he was in the hospital, with Madame Pomfrey standing at the foot of his bed. No one had told him the events leading up to his hospitalization, nor had they told him who had saved him.

Snape strolled around the classroom, inspecting each student's potion. As he passed Hermione, her potion was perfection, as always. Her hazel eyes were focused on the Draught, and she bit her lower lip as she contemplated every step of brewing it. Snape had not noticed the fine woman she had grown into until a few months ago. Her hair had gone from bushy and unkempt to displaying little ringlets of curly hair. He came up behind Hermione, pretending to inspect her potion, and he inhaled her sweet scent. She smelled of lavender and vanilla, and he stood for a good five seconds, engulfed in the aromatic pleasure.

Hermione focused on the potion, measuring out just the right amount of hellebore. She was carefully adding it to her potion when a warm body brushed against hers and a voice whispered in her ear; "Miss Granger," Snape paused for a second, "it needs to simmer some more." Gods, she loved that voice. He had a velvety, baritone voice, yet one that hung with an air of authority.

Then, there was a loud "BOOM!"

Neville sat at his desk, enveloped in purple fumes, cowering from the Potions Master who was swiftly advancing toward the disruption, trailing his robes behind him. "Longbottom!" Snape roared, and loomed over the cowering boy, "How much powdered unicorn horn did you add?"

"A gram, sir."

"And how much does the blackboard instruct you to add?"

Neville glanced up at the board. "Oh, 0.16 of a gram, sir."

"Headmaster Dumbledore always says that everyone has _something_ to contribute to Hogwarts," Snape remarked, "but _clearly_ he has yet to meet you. Twenty- five points from Gryffindor for being an incorrigible half- wit!"

After Longbottom left for the hospital wing, Snape's gaze found Hermione once more. He lingered down by her neck, imagining biting and licking. Continuing his trail downwards, he went ever so slowly downwards as her breasts attracted his attention. The way they bounced with her movements made him want to groan out loud. He could practically feel them in his hands, caressing them as his thumb grazed her nipple, making her groan out loud for him.

At the end of class, Snape watched her go. He watched her carry all her books, and pack up to leave. He thought he saw her glance at him briefly, with those hazel eyes, before she left.

Snape couldn't let himself fall for a student. He was her teacher, and she was his student, and it was wrong in every way. It was ridiculous that he would even think about it. He could lose his job if he continued along that train of thought. She would never return his affections anyway. It was, of course, simply a physical reaction that resulted from a decade of abstinence, he told himself.

—- Hermione was freaking out. During class she had felt Snape's cold gaze upon her, the inky, black pools examining her closely. She had always had superb peripheral vision, and could tell when someone was looking at her. After a few minutes of brewing, before she left, she glanced up at him, only to find his penetrating gaze still upon her. She swiftly looked away, and left as the class ended.

—- Snape brewed that evening, contemplating his reaction to the girl. He was positive that he was simply having a physical reaction to not being active for 15 years. Her pouty lips and pert breasts haunted his thoughts. He soon decided that he should get to bed, where he fell into a restless sleep.

 _Snape watched her with a piercing gaze, moaning as the topless girl licked and bit her way down his body. Her tiny hand wrapped around his considerable length, and she palmed his cock, slowly reaching for the zipper…_ Snape drifted back into consciousness, quickly gaining to and realizing that he had a raging erection, and was covered in his own cum. He cast a hasty _scourgify_ on himself. He had gotten less than three hours of sleep, due to fantasies of a certain someone, and was in a terrible mood. Yanking off the covers with a growl, Severus tried making the water as cold as he could stand it, in hopes of making his erection deflate, and getting the girl out of his head. However, thoughts of her joining him in the shower came to mind, and he surrendered to his lust, turning the water to warm and letting it caress him. Bracing himself against the wall of the shower, he reached down to stroke himself and moaned.

—- Later that morning, Hermione sat next to Ron and Harry at the Gryffindor table of the dungeon bat's class. Snape swept into the room, a full minute late. That was definitely odd for the Potions Master. Snape seemed in a fouler mood than usual, immediately taking twenty points from Gryffindor for "incessant chattering" in his classroom, though all students, as usual, were chattering. He spoke in his rich, velvety voice, "You are to brew Dreamless Sleep Potion. You have 45 minutes. Assuming you all followed instructions to read the assigned chapter last night," Snape sneered, "you shouldn't need instruction. Begin." Snape's inky black pools fell upon Hermione, and he paled remembering the events of this morning's shower. He watched Hermione brew her potion with ease, and she sat back to relax, as she only need to wait 5 minutes to add a bezoar. She glanced up at Snape, who's piercing gaze was upon her again, but this time she did not look away. Snape held her stare for a good 15 seconds, before finally speaking, "Miss Granger, five points from Gryffindor for staring. Get back to work." Hermione was outraged. she glared at Snape before returning back to her work.

—

Hermione sat with Harry and Ron later that evening in the Great Hall. Ron was outraged as well. "Hermione, that git had no right! After what you did for him, saving-"

"Ron!" Hermione interrupted, "Not here!"

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Snape had been observing her. He heard this, and was shocked. He got up and swept out of the Great Hall.

—

After the next day's class, Snape told Hermione to stay after class. Snape took her into his office, and ordered her to sit.

"Sit."

Hermione sat.

"Yesterday I overheard the most _interesting_ exchange between yourself and the Weasley boy. Care to explain?"

"I do not think you want to know, sir."

"DON'T," Snape seethed, "tell me what I do and do not want to know. Tell me now or I will recommend expulsion."

Hermione was terrified. Hazel eyes met black. She realized she was helpless.

"Well, sir," she began, and informed him of the events on that fateful night. "You see, you were bitten by- by Nagini.. and- and- I couldn't let you die, and since magic didn't work on the bite- I- I-…"

"Yes?" Snape seethed.

" I had to do it the muggle way."

"And what, pray tell, does the 'muggle way' consist of?" Snape's voice lowered to a deadly whisper.

"I- I…" Hermione began, "I- because the venom is deadly when in the bloodstream but harmless when ingested, I sucked the venom out of the wound orally."

Snape's breath hitched. Her use of wording put images in his mind. "Snape, you pervert," he thought, "stop."

There was a full five second silence.

"Get out." Snape finally muttered.

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"Get. Out. Now." Snape ordered.

Hermione froze.

"GET OUT!" he roared.

Hermione fled as fast as she could, turning and speeding out of the dungeon, up the staircases, and all the way to her room, where she flung herself onto her bed, sobbing.

"Oh, _superb_ job, Snape," Snape muttered, "you've done it again."

—

The next day, Hermione arose from bed feeling like crap. Her eyes had bags under them, as she had failed to get a satisfying amount of sleep. She dragged herself to the Great Hall for breakfast, not even bothering to attempt to tame her hair. "You're welcome for saving your life, you evil bastard," she muttered, as she slowly made her way to the Great Hall. She entered, spotting Harry and Ron, who were both staring at her like she had grown a second head.

"'Mione, you ok?" Ron asked.

"The dungeon bat threatened me with expulsion if I didn't tell him about the bite…"

"He knows?"

"Yes, and he's probably going to kill me as soon as he gets the opportunity. Now eat up."

—

Hermione dragged herself to Potions, which, as a matter of fact, she had been dreading all day.

She took a seat, and awaited Snape's dramatic entrance. Snape swept in. "Alright class, you have the class period to complete this written test, go."

Hermione aced the test, and excelled in the essay portion, especially compared to that written by her peers. As she had the majority of the class period to relax, she picked up her favorite book, _Hogwarts: A History_ , and proceeded to read it for the 132nd time. As she immersed herself in the chapter which entailed the backgrounds of the Hogwarts founders', a shadow in front of her became apparent in her peripheral vision. Her eyes made their way up a long line of black buttons, and came to meet a pair of cold, dark eyes.

"Is there a problem, professor?"

"In case it has escaped your notice, Miss Granger, my class is not the library, where bushy- haired trolls dwell in their imaginary world. Ten points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all, and another twenty for reading in my class," he seethed, snatching the book from her. His long fingers brushed against hers for an instant, and they both felt their magic crackle.

"But-"

"Shall I deduct another twenty for your insubordination?" he remarked, abruptly interrupting her.

Tears began to well up in her eyes. She looked down at the desk.

"I thought so," he said, striding his way up to his desk.

By this time, all of the students' eyes were on the pair; the Gryffindors' filled with fury, and the Slytherins' with amusement.

"Seeing as the rest of you desperately need to make an _attempt_ at your education, I will deduct another ten points from each dunderhead who does not return to their test."

The students immediately returned their attention to their tests, and the class was soon over, making the students scurry out the door. All except one furious Gryffindor.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione made her way up to the front of the room, towards the Potion Master's desk.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, or displeasure, of your company, Miss Granger? Have you come to protest the penalties of violating the rules in my classroom? Because I assure you, I would not object to deducting more Gryffindor House points," he drawled, not even looking up from the third year's essay he was furiously marking.

"Excuse me, Professor, I know that you must be upset that I told you the truth about the circumstances surrounding your rescue, but there is no need to be so uncivil towards me," she began, her eyes beginning to flare with suppressed anger. "I had your best interest in mind that night, and you have brought me nothing but woe. One would think that such an _established_ and _cold_ professor would not be so childish. You-"

"-Childish, Miss Granger?" he began, and he had brought his gaze from the paper to meet her eyes. He knew very well why he had been so callous. "I am not the one who constantly seeks the attention of others. I do not care to show off, nor to throw myself at any superior to prove my worth. I do not meddle in others' affairs, nor do I care. I will be seeing you in detention tomorrow night for your disrespect of authority and disregard for rules."

"But-"

"Ten points. Shall I make it twenty?" He raised a dark eyebrow.

She ran out of the room, out of the dungeons, to the Gryffindor common rooms, up the stairs, and into her room, where she flung herself upon the bed and cried.

—

'Severus, what have you done?' he thought to himself. 'How will you resist her?'

When he had seen her reading, that concentrated look on her face, biting her lip, he had to do something. When he snatched the book from her, his fingers had brushed against hers, sending an electrical spark through them. She had blushed fiercely, and he found himself wondering just how far that blush spread down her body. This caused his member to struggle against the confines of his boxers. When he had given her detention, and she ran away distraught, he hadn't enjoyed it. Why? He always did. What made this time different? His train of thought was inhibited when he became acutely aware of his raging erection. This terrified him. He had not felt anything like this since… well. He retired for the night.

Thoughts of a certain little Gryffindor danced across his thoughts. He could not help himself as he reached beneath the bedsheets. A low, baritone moan escaped from his throat as he stroked his long shaft. It had the likeness of a metal pole covered in silk, as it grew even harder as he stroked it. "Mmmmm… fuck that feels good."

His fist slid up and down his shaft, reaching the base and pressing against his abdomen, where he slowed and turned his fist over, slowly milking his throbbing member as he slid his fist back up to the tip. His movements began to quicken, and his moans began to become louder and more urgent. He pumped his cock as if there was no pleasure to be gained from the action, only release. In his mind, he pictured that it was Hermione that engulfed his member, bouncing and riding him. He reached down to caress his balls, while his other hand continued pumping his cock.

"Ohhhhhh," he cried, his fist flying across his cock, his back arching off of the bed, and his hand froze, squeezing his cock as he came. Wet heat filled his hand, and splattered onto his chest and abdomen. He fell back onto the bed, exhausted, with thoughts of the Gryffindor still haunting him.


End file.
